


tricked ya

by chandrasekhar



Category: DCU, The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Axel-centric, Complicated Relationships, Developing Friendships, Dysfunctional Relationships, Emotional Constipation, Gen, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Injury, Introspection, Misunderstandings, Self-Destructive Behavior
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-13
Updated: 2018-11-16
Packaged: 2019-03-04 03:33:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13355622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chandrasekhar/pseuds/chandrasekhar
Summary: They're not family. Not for him, anyway. Just a patchwork of people drawn together by occasion, and who, for some reason, decided to work as a team.Axel wants in.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this thing is all over the place, but I am oddly proud of it  
> it's been at least two years since i've last watched the tv show, and even more time since i've last read any issue about the Flash; i've got neither the time or disposition to look everything up to make sure it's canon compliant, so ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ last case we can all say it's an au or something of sorts >.>
> 
> either way. all mistakes are mine, and english isn't my mother language, so there's that?  
> I hope you enjoy~

“-on the news-”

Axel stares straight ahead, smile tucked firmly into place, as if he can’t hear a word they’re saying. He can, of course, their voices swimming like thoughts inside his head, but if he can pass as none the wiser, well. It’s good to have the upper hand. Can’t exactly trick people without that, can he?

“-doesn’t honestly-”

Cold is pretending not to look at him. Axel knows he is anyway. Mean guy, this Captain. No sense of humor whatsoever and a nasty right hook that got his jaw still sore, skin tender and hot under the touch. Could probably loosen up a bit. Warm up to a few jokes here and there, right?  _ Warm up _ . Axel holds back a giggle. Ha.

“-the kids at the park-”

Heatwave isn’t looking, and doesn’t pretend to, but it is entirely plausible that he’s considering how long would it take for Axel to burn. Fascinating, really, and not entirely to blame. Axel  _ did _ breakout their HQ, or whatever the hell this place is. Got himself sucker punched and all. It’s a wonder he didn’t even try to put him on fire yet. Axel likes him. The guy can probably appreciate the beauty of making things go boom.

“-himself Trickster-”

The Golden Glider doesn’t pretend  _ not  _ to stare. Scary girl, this Goldie. Looks like she could be the perfect prank partner, if only she didn’t hate him. The worst part? She can probably shot him with her eyes closed. And  _ not miss _ . Can’t side with someone who doesn’t enjoy your company, right? They might try to trick you.

“-the gala-”

No sign from Cloudy, Rainbow Road or Boom. Where they even there at the beginning? Axel racks up his memories, but, no. The Hamelin guy had just gone out when he sneaked in and made himself comfortable in the reclinable chair. A shame, really. Axel would’ve liked to know them. Boom can pop out of existence and pop back somewhere else! Cloudy is the weather man! Hamelin is a genius that can do the swoosh sound thing! Rainbow can-

To be quite honest, Axel’s not sure what Rainbow does. But it’s something amazing, he’s pretty sure of that.

“-James Jesse-”

His heart rate picks up. He’s not sure the three doing the talking have noticed, but he hopes they haven’t.

He hasn’t talked to dad in-

No. Nope. Not going there. Keep smiling, even if it turns into something sharper, a maniac grin stretched over his face instead of the carefully amused one he had plastered on his lips just seconds before. They don’t even know anything. He shouldn’t get worked up over this. They don’t know anything. Dad may be the best at making things go boom and putting on a show, but he’s pretty good at other things, too. Disappearing without leaving a trace, for example. Kind of like Boom does! Except that dad is not a meta. Axel would know if he were.

Maybe. He thinks so.

“Guuuys.” he drags the word. Clicks his tongue. Picks a scab on his arm for the hell of it, even if the second after he frees his hands, Goldilocks, Freeze and Bonfire have their guns cocked and pointed at him. “I’m bored!” he pouts. Pops a gum out of one of his many pockets. “Can’t you be a little quicker with your decision?”

They either let him in or put a bullet through his head. No other choice when he knows where they live, where to find them and all that shit, but dying today doesn’t sound any fun for him, so who’s to blame if he already had an evacuation plan in case things went south for him?

It’s quite easy. Honestly. Drop the gum. Get the fuck out. They can figure out the glitter and smoke things alone. It’s not like Axel  _ is _ trying to kill them. He just wants a relatively fun place to stay before dad sorts his things out and comes to get him. If Ice Cube doesn’t take him, he can find somewhere else. Is it gonna be fun?  _ That _ probably will not. But he’ll manage

“I mean, not to be rude or anything.” he’s twirling the gum between his fingers. Figuratively. In his head. Won’t make them pay more attention to it than they need to. “But you guys suck at this. Weren’t you supposed to ask me how I got in? Why do I want in? Yadda-yadda, the whole garden?” he uses the other hand to wave empathetically. They don’t seem to appreciate the gesture.

“Can I fry him?” Fire Pit looks eager. Kind of like Axel himself when he wants to test his new toys. Like a kid opening a gift. His finger is hovering dangerously close to the trigger.

And here’s the thing: for a split second, Axel thinks Cold is going to let him. That he’ll have to change the plan to dodge, drop the gum and only  _ then _ get the fuck out. And no amount of arguing with himself will explain why his chest feels tight at that. They don’t know anything. They’re nothing to him. Axel can’t will away the disappointment at having his plans frustrated, but he won’t let himself mope like a child that couldn’t get into the Cool Kids team. He’s better than that.

Heatwave doesn’t pull the trigger.

“We’ll cut you some slack, kid.” Glider is the one who’s talking, and she’s the last to put away her gun. And maybe he got it all wrong, maybe  _ she _ is the boss girl here, because she doesn’t glance back at Cold before telling him: “You’re in. For now.”

Axel whoops. Puts the gum back in his pocket. He even wipes away imaginary tears for some good measure.

“You guys are so nice! We’re practically cousins now.” and then he gets up. His smile has lost its edge, but he’s gonna keep it for now. Better have them think he got a few screws loose than realizing he’s a breath away from breaking down. “Where is my room? Or am I rooming with someone? Can I have the chair? It’s really comfortable! Why do Pipes and Rainbow Road got a room all to themselves?”

It’s not good to push when you have so little ground to stand on. But what can he say? Axel’s not exactly the picture of cautious and rational here. He’s testing the waters. Better know now than when he lays down the wariness just to have them put the gun against his temple.  _ Tricked ya _ .

To their credit, none of them seem particularly surprised that he looked around in his stay. Just annoyed. And maybe confused as to how he knows which rooms belong to whom.

Axel counts it as a victory anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I ~may~ turn this into a multi-chaptered series, depending on where my muse decides to go next.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hindsight has never been his thing.
> 
> (alternatively: Axel is pretty sure they're just waiting for the other shoe to drop.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUESS WHO'S ~~finally~~ BACK WITH A BRAND NEW CHAPTER FOR YOU GUYS  
>  yes, it's me \Õ
> 
> on a sidenote, I would like to say that this took a really long time to be finished because I kept switching narratives .____. my writing more often than not takes a turn and changes it's own way of telling stories; which may or not may translate into the fact that this chapter probably will feel a lot different from the previous one  
> but then, maybe that's just me overreacting? ;u;  
> anyway, I would like to thank all of you who left comments and kudos \Õ/ you guys are amazing :3  
> I hope you enjoy this~

**one**

 Loopholes are kind of his thing. Nobody ever gets it, and it’s not like Axel cares enough to explain, but it’s like his brain has been hardwired into spotting flaws and _exploiting_ them.

Which is why it is so _frustrating_ that Mardon never takes the bait. Axel doesn’t understand. He _knows_ what he’s doing, has never quite managed to kick the habit of picking on people until they want to turn him into a punching bag. But then, _why does Wizard never follow the script_? Axel can’t throw the first punch. That’s expected. That’s _boring_. He’s the newcomer, he’s supposed to _be_ the trouble, a ticking bomb. He hits first, Cold will have his _head_. Wizard, though? That’s a wildcard. Who knows? _Who knows_? No honour amongst thieves has always been the saying Axel sticks to, but testing the waters could give him more room to work with.

_If only Mordor followed the goddamn script_. But he doesn’t. Never gets off his fucking high horse and all that, no matter how many buttons Axel pushes.

“You’re that brat, aren’t you? The one who took the Trickster’s name and tried blowing up the park.”

Took. _Took_. As if Axel is but a petty thief who can’t even come up with his own nickname. He can’t help it. Wizard worked alongside dad once, and dad can work with whomever the hell he wants — but still. _Still_.

“He’s my dad.” it’s good saying it aloud. Shouldn’t, because it means he’s losing, it means he’s _jealous_ , it means there’s this tiny part of him that’s saying: _that’s why dad would choose him instead of you_. What if Wizard can shoot lightning out of his hands? _What of it?_ There’s almost nothing he could do with his powers that Axel couldn’t with just a few blueprints and the necessary materials.

Feelings, though. Feelings are a different matter altogether. If he gets compromised it means he’s not having fun, it means he’s getting attached, it means he _cares_. And dad doesn’t need him to _care_ , dad just needs him to do his _goddamn work_.

“... James Jesse is your _dad_ ?” Mardon’s tone is off. His entire _posture_ is off, and not in the fun way, but in the way that makes Axel’s inside churn with unease.

“Yeah.” he says. _Snarls_. “Got a problem with that, _Cloudy_?” he’s not smiling. He’s not smiling but he should be because it means he’s having fun, right? It means _look at me, I do not care_.

Once more, Wizard doesn’t take the bait — just shrugs his goddamn shoulders, and Axel wants to _kill_ him for that.

But he doesn’t. And Mardon doesn’t care.

(Dad doesn’t care, either, not anymore, and maybe that’s why he left.)

 

**two**  

It comes as a delightful surprise that Peek a Boo is courteous enough to look over his wounds, even though Axel hasn’t been working very hard to be nice to her. It’s not that he’s mean to her — he’s mean to everybody —, he just didn’t take any particular interest and as such, his interactions with the much amazing Boom haven’t been numerous up until this point.

Well, he’s fixing that _right now_. Not that Boom talks a lot — she mostly just frowns or nods at the things he says —, but, to Axel, that’s more than he had been expecting. He doesn’t get _technical_ , wouldn’t want to give her any ideas, wouldn’t spill out his secrets so easily, and it’s surprisingly fun; funnier than having to put back into place the dislocated shoulder or stitching back his skin the way Baez has been doing for the past twenty-minutes or so.

“Does this happen often?” she asks at some point, which is a first, and Axel shakes his head.

“Nah. Don’t like to brag or anything, but I’m a professional.” he _is_.

“How does a professional end up with so many scars?” to her credit, she doesn’t sound skeptical, just curious.

Axel can’t help it — he smiles at her, all bite, no bark, and wonders to himself which particular scar has spiked up this interest. Who knows? Not him, that’s for sure.

Besides, it’s not as if he even _remembers_ what caused them. It’s not every day a faulty wire gets in your way of world domination, and Axel’s pretty critical of the things he puts in his trinkets — wouldn’t want every single one of them going boom before their time, right? Getting down and dirty is kind of his thing sometimes; one scar or two are a cheap price to pay for the way he feels after a good prank gone right.

Baez is still looking.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Axel puts back his jacket, essentially covering up whatever she might have been looking at. He _loves_ that jacket. “Loved our talk, Boo, but I need to go now — places to go, things to blow up, you know the drill.”

She stares, _stares_ , but doesn’t stop him. Axel keeps the smile on his face.

 

**three**

Rainbow isn’t any fun. No matter how much Axel pries, the guy never seems to come out of his room. _Weeks_. And what does he do? _Paints_! He’s boring enough that most of the time Axel doesn’t even want to know — but Pipes wasn’t around and he didn’t have any new ideas he would enjoy working with, so Rainbow he chose.

In hindsight, he should have picked someone else.

It’s been years since he’s last cried. _Years._  But inside the tiny room stuck full of painting supplies Rainbow calls a bedroom, sitting on his bed and staring at the horrified face of Roy Bivolo, Axel Walker feels the sudden urge to wipe away at his eyes. He doesn’t, of course, because the tears aren’t there yet and Bivolo doesn’t look like he’s noticed they’re coming.

But the urge is still there.

“Axel-” Rainbow _does_ look apologetic. Not that it makes any difference.

“This isn’t fun.” Axel tells him, flinches away from the the “sorry” that is a second away from leaving Bivolo’s mouth like a normal person would flinch from a punch.

It isn’t. It isn’t fun. His mind is driving around in an infinite loop of the way the other’s eyes flashed — blue, magenta, yellow, green, he doesn’t know. And it doesn’t matter. He doesn't care. Axel doesn’t _care_. He leaves, mouth dry, heart hammering on his chest, eyes still stinging.

He steers clear of Bivolo after that.

 

**four**  

Pipes is the funniest to mess with. Him and his rats and all his ‘do-not-do’s’ list — which is quite long, longer than anyone's Axel's ever met. He never raises his hands, or his voice, and perhaps that's why Axel can never leave him alone for too long: it's addictive. The punching bag habit kicks in and he wants to poke and pick and smile until Hartley Rathaway's self-controlled façade crumbles to _dust_.

Because that's what he's good at, right? _Pushing_ . Pushing and tearing and _blowing things up_. But just destruction for the sake of destruction is no fun whatsoever — he's _meticulous_. There's _logic_ , there's a _pattern_ , there's _passion_. If you're not having fun, then what's the whole point?

Pipes, clearly, doesn't care about fun — and that only makes it easier to rile him up.

"What is _wrong_ with you?"

He seems more frustrated than the usual, but it's not enough. It's disappointing, to be quite honest. Cold _did_ give him the talk, told him to step the fuck down, yadda yadda, it doesn't really matter — Axel thought it meant Hartley was finally caving in, but he's _not —_  the others are. Rory's standing on the other side of the room, eyes are narrowed at him, and the message is quite clear: the wrong answer may just be enough to kill him. Which could be fun. Dangerous right now could be fun — but it's not _Pipes_ , it’s not what he _wants_ , and Axel refuses to back down.

"There are many, _many_ things wrong with me, Pipes."

He means it as a jab, but Hartley doesn't bite the bullet — just huffs out, annoyed. Instead, it is Mr. Furnace the one to answer him.

"Fuck off, pipsqueak."

Axel throws him the finger and leaves, laughing out loud when he realizes that neither Rory or Pipes are following him out the room.

 

**five**

Lisa likes him about as much as she would like stepping on some particularly nasty bug — which is, not at all. Axel can’t exactly blame her, he’s not getting out of his way to become likeable to any of them.

Especially not to her. Lisa’s got the annoying habit of picking people apart from the details they _choose_ to show her, and that’s… Not funny at all. It’s _weird_. It’s weird being under her scrutinizing gaze because most of the time she can see right through the act, right through the carefully picked and crafted lies, and that’s _dangerous_. Playing with fire is only nice up until the moment you stop laughing.

He doesn’t exactly feel like laughing right now.

“You’re afraid of Lenny, kid?”

Once. It was only _once_. Something stupid, something foolish like maybe flinching away or stepping back for a second or twisting his grin just the wrong way and now _she won’t leave him alone_.

“Boss man?” he stares at the empty energy drink can in his hands for a moment before looking up. “Nah.”

It’s true. Lisa can look like the cat that’s got the canary all she wants. _It’s true_. Cold wouldn’t hesitate to kill him. Axel doesn’t think so. But he’s not _afraid_. They’re just hoping for him to slip, hoping for the other shoe to drop, and he won’t give them the damn satisfaction of getting him.

Axel’s pretty good at pretending he doesn’t know any better — mostly.

“Don’t get all emotional on me, kid. I’m not equipped to deal with that.”

Axel laughs. Laughs out loud. Him getting _emotional_ all over her is just as ridiculous as the possibility of her going soft on him — which she doesn’t, if for just a second.

“I wouldn’t _dream_ of it, Lisey Lisa.”

 

  **+1**

They’re laughing at him. _Of course_ they’re laughing. It’s the funniest fucking joke of the _century_ , and they didn’t even need to do _anything_! Dad must be so _proud_. Or, would be, you know, if Axel weren’t such a fucking _disappointment_.

Why did he even think of reaching out for the Rogues in the first place? Damage control isn’t his thing. There isn’t much to _fix_ after you blow up something, and that’s what Axel does. That’s the only thing he’s ever been _good_ at. Dad knows this, _knew_ this, and that’s what he needed Axel for, not — not whatever the hell he’s been doing the last months.

_Months_. Oh, for fuck’s sake, what had he been _thinking_? If he had been thinking of anything _at all_. Dad was gonna come back, _of course he was gonna come back_ , and what did he do? **What did he do?** Antagonize him? Is Axel stupid enough to turn his back on the one person who’s ever wanted him for _him_ , who’s ever _cared_ for him? It had never been a weakness, not when it came to dad, up until the point Axel _turned it_ into one.

Stupid. _Stupid_. _Stupid, stupid, stu-_

“Kid.”

And now? What now? Axel presses his hands against his sides as if that could stop him from falling apart, from breaking at the seams, from baring for others to see how _ugly_ -

“Axel?”

He looks up. It’s Pipes. It’s Pipes’ voice. It’s hadn’t been — he never calls him “kid” —, but now it is. Pipes, who hates him. Pipes, who only ever wants to be left alone. Pipes, who-

Isn’t smiling.

Axel looks down for just a second, just to gather his surroundings, get back on his feet before everything slips out of control — and only then notices the red seeping in through his fingers.

He brings them up. Curious rather than cautious, because hindsight has never been his thing. He should’ve waited, but he didn’t, and dad’s back but he doesn’t want him, and suddenly everything is just-

His hands come back wet with blood. The both of them.

_Tricked ya_.

 

(and that’s when Axel realizes: the only person laughing is himself.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I wanted to write more about Hartley, but he wouldn't let me? still, I'll try coming up with a way of showing more of them)
> 
> Until next time, I guess \Õ


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A sharp laugh, loud like shattering glass.
> 
> ("You're afraid of Lenny, kid?")

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> writing Lisa is hard ;-; I hope I managed to do her justice ;-;  
> ALSO, three chapters in, yay! \Õ let's pretend for a moment that I'm not still trying to adjust to the narrative .___. I mean, my muse doesn't want to cooperate?? It was faster this time around, but I spent one entire month wondering what I was going to write next, just to end up typing this in the last two hours or so. Life is weird ;-;  
> BUT WHATEVER  
> I hope you guys enjoy it~

One question. Five simple words. Her tone is conversational, edging on uncaring, even though her insides are coiled in anticipation, even though the wrong answer might just be enough for the façade to slip for a moment.

“You’re afraid of Lenny, kid?”

It shouldn’t mean as much as it does.

  
  


 

 

Lisa doesn’t lie to herself and pretend she enjoys the kid’s company — she doesn’t. Axel Walker is loud, brash and disrespectful; he thinks he’s the next James Jesse and she doesn’t take kindly to the fact. That’s not even considering the whole ‘trying to blow up kids’ thing. He’s been behaving, well, as much as he apparently can, lately, and it’s still not enough.

Thing is: most of time, he’s pushing all the wrong buttons. Axel irks her in a way few people manage to. He walks a very fine line between _just a little insane_ and _bonkers_ , and it’s not nice to watch him switching faces as often as he does — it’s even worse to see the multitude of smiles he’s got on his sleeve, how the tiniest turn of his mouth makes him go from zero to twenty in the span of a second.

He can be kind of decent when he wants to. Lisa has watched him around Shawna and he isn’t half as bad with her as he is with everyone else — and _still_. He’s awful to Hartley — doesn’t leave him alone unless he’s _threatened —_ , and hadn’t Lisa known Rathaway can pick and fight his own battles, she herself would’ve kicked Axel’s ass. Mick’s a step away from doing that, she’s sure; he’s never denied his almost soft spot for Hartley. Mardon doesn’t care, doesn’t even pay him any attention most of time, and Bivolo is mostly quiet, but Lisa doesn’t really think Axel’s above messing with the both of them, too.

All in all, the kid’s a troublemaker at heart, a _nightmare_ to deal with, and it doesn’t mean much that she and Lenny are the ones he keeps the most distance from — she doesn’t even think it’s out of respect, but rather the lack of a chance of pranking them.

Give him one chance, just one, she knows, and Axel Walker will do something just this sort of _devious_ and then walk out like nothing ever happened.

 

 

 

Sometimes she wishes she were wrong.

  
  


 

Lenny’s a patient man. Lisa knows this. Mick knows this. _The entirety of the Rogues knows this_. She doesn’t think she’s seen him this mad since — since a long time ago. His voice is cold as steel; his eyes are _hard_. It takes a spectacular kind of fucking up to bring that out. It’s _fair_ , of course. They don’t get a free pass just because they work together; and what the kid did was much more than _just_ stepping out of line. Two entire blocks up in flames. No casualties, but that’s only because Allen’s actually real quick on his feet — a far cry from the gangling hero he started out as.

Whatever. If anything, Walker _deserves_ this. Deserves a chewing out, deserves to know that he’ll be put into his place, that there’s no ‘cutting him some slack’ anymore. He’s a _Rogue_ now, and he should know, they should be better than that.

“One more step out of line, _Walker_ , and you’re out.”

Lisa isn’t sure she imagines his flinch, the sudden tension in his shoulders, pupils dilating — but no one notices, no one says a thing, and she keeps quiet.

Half a heartbeat later, and Axel’s smile is _wicked_.

“Got it, boss man. Won’t happen again.”

  
  


 

She doesn’t mean to overthink it, honestly. Lenny wouldn’t lay a single hand on the kid, ever — not unless he striked first, and even then. The worst he would do would be kick Walker out of the Rogues.

Still. It’s not her _problem_. She tells herself it _isn’t_ , and she’s sticking to that.

  
  


 

As much as she can, anyway.

(She doesn’t see him for three days straight after that — and when he does show up it’s carrying a busted lip, dark bruising around his left eye, lip syncing to an early 80’s Cyndi Lauper song. Lisa pretends it doesn’t bother her.)

  
  


 

“Scars?” Mark sounds bewildered, to a certain extent.

Lisa stops dead on her tracks, halfway to the door. A second of silence goes by.

“He’s a brat, Shawna.”

“It doesn’t mean he deserves to be beaten around.”

And _fuck it_ if Lisa isn’t immediately on edge because of that. She doesn’t even need to guess who they’re talking about.

“That’s not what I said.” now Mardon sounds defensive.

“It was _implied_ , Mark.” a sigh. “Listen, I know you don’t like him, okay? I don’t even know why I’m saying this to you, it’s just-” a pause.  Lisa can almost picture Shawna, sitting by the barstool with a bottle of beer in her hands, face serious. “Can’t get it out of my mind. The scars were old, I’ll give you that. All the bruising… Was not. I don’t think he even noticed there was something wrong.”

  
  


 

It’s hard telling herself it doesn’t matter after that.

  
  


 

One question. Five simple words. Her tone is conversational, edging on uncaring, even though her insides are coiled in anticipation, even though the wrong answer might just be enough for the façade to slip for a moment.

“You’re afraid of Lenny, kid?”

It shouldn’t mean as much as it does.

Axel hesitates. _Why does he hesitate?_ He’s a little fucker with behaviour issues, yeah — but he’s a _Rogue_. As long as he’s in, _he’s in_. And even if Lenny kicks him out, they wouldn’t- none of them would.

“Boss man? Nah.” but his eyes are glazed over, from the amount of energy drinks he’s just had or something else, she doesn’t know. So Lisa does what she does best: she deflects.

“Don’t get all emotional on me, kid. I’m not equipped to deal with that.” she means it.

Axel laughs — a sharp laugh, loud like shattering glass.

“I wouldn’t _dream_ of it, Lisey Lisa.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if everything goes the way I want it to, Hartley will show up next :3


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Water is wet, the Earth is round, Axel Walker fucks up sometimes.  
> Scratch that. Axel Walker fucks up _a lot_ sometimes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo, uh, if you're one of those who read the previous chapter 4 before I took it out, you're aware that I wasn't exactly happy with how that turned out. This month's been kinda hard on me, and I posted it in a rush; re-reading everything after made me realize I could do better, so I deleted it.  
> And now I'm back?? So there's that.  
> On another note, I would like to thank you guys who have been commenting so far. Wondercrap, HistoryISculture, PepperCat — I know I take a lot of time to answer, but I hope you guys know that you make my day a lot brighter! xD  
> Without further ado, to the chapter~
> 
> (LIES, there's something else:::::spoiler-y, but an attempt at killing Hartley's rats is implied; none of them was hurt, though)

Hartley Rathaway has always prided himself in being a mostly rational, though sometimes emotionally-driven, person. He can be _petty_ , yes, vengeful, but even _that_ is calculated — he doesn’t just say _fuck it_ and throws caution to the wind, he _plans things through_ because, who would’ve thought? It means shit actually gets done. So, yes, he’s not a paragon of the cold, calculating guy, whatever; he’s not _reckless,_ either.

Axel Walker sweeps all of that away with a tilt of the head and a devious smile.

  


 

Here’s the thing: Axel’s _weird_. From the things he does to the things he says to the clothes he wears — he’s _weird_ , that’s the truth. And if it were just that, fine, man, whatever floats your boat, Hartley can’t be the one to judge, but it’s _not_. Because it’s not personal, it shouldn't rattle him so much, and _yet_. Axel’s just plain _annoying_ , no reason to the things he does except apparently getting Hartley to _snap_ at him and Hartley can’t _stand_ him — this mess of a boy who pushes and pushes and _pushes_ and never knows when to stop. He feels like he’s constantly walking over a thin line, torn apart between ignoring him, hoping that pretending he doesn’t exist will make Axel Walker give up on whatever it is that he’s been trying so hard to accomplish, and throwing him out the goddamn _window_ , not figuratively.

Not really, because Len wouldn’t stand for that. But _almost_. And it’s damn tiring because at the end of the day, no matter how much Hartley tries to — and _gods_ does he try to — kick away the uncomfortable feeling worming up its’ way into his guts, he can’t. When Axel smiles, it is a deranged grin that is fake as much as it is _unsettling_ , and here’s the thing: Hartley _enjoys_ being a Rogue. He enjoys having a team, having something to fall back on, having something he could maybe even stretch and call a makeshift family. And he understands that it’s not like that for everyone else, that it can’t be, but Axel was supposed to be _temporary_ and he’s not, and what, then?

So he tells himself ‘give him a chance’. Even though Axel’s frustrating and Hartley still feels like throwing him out the window, even if a big part of him is more than happy to keep quiet in his corner, lest him end up getting tangled with someone else’s mess like he sometimes does — even then, Hartley tells himself to try. Everyone else got a chance, and no matter what, why wouldn’t he give it to Axel, too? Maybe there’s a chance that underneath all the mess he broadcasts for the world to see, there’s someone more than worth the trouble. It wouldn’t be the first time.

Besides, he’s a Rogue. What’s the worst he could do?

  


 

The worst, Hartley learns, pretty quickly, is pretty damn bad.

  


 

“What did you _do_?”

He’s fuming, hands in fists against Axel Walker’s stupidly bright shirt, heart beating madly inside his chest. He should’ve known, when the other stopped bothering him so much, when things started getting quiet, when the pranks stopped coming — when he stepped into his room and smelt the gunpowder and cotton candy, so strong he could almost feel them both at the tip of his _tongue_.

Hartley should’ve known.

“Whoa there, Pipes! Not even gonna say thank you? I was getting rid of the pests for you!”

A heartbeat of silence goes by. And then another. In Hartley’s head, nothing but white noise for what feels like an eternity before it sinks — and then he’s horrified, the words tumbling out of his mouth in a tone that’s incredulous more than it is angered.

“They’re not pests, you idiot, _they’re my rats_.”

The smile slips, if for barely a second. Axel’s eyes widen, the pupils getting thinner, his eyebrows rising — and some cynical part buried deep inside of Hartley keels over, thinks, _finally_ , almost makes him tremble, because underneath all, Axel Walker is still someone-

“Oops.”

Hartley Rathaway sees _red_.

  


 

It doesn’t feel _good_. Kicking Axel out his bedroom doesn’t make him vindicated, doesn’t help quell the anger, doesn’t _satisfy_ him. The truth is: Hartley wants nothing but to lay in his bed, curl around every single one of his rats and _sob_ — he wants to count every one of them and their little paws and tails until he’s sure they’re fine, that they’re good, and, yeah, maybe punch Axel in the face after he’s done, even if it won’t make things better, even if it won’t fix things.

  


 

Hartley isn’t sure how long he stays in his room, if it’s hours or days or an entire week, if the others notice his absence and wonder why he’s not coming out — but it must be long enough, because when the knock in his door eventually comes, his body is heavy with fatigue, maybe even hunger, and everything _hurts_.

Len doesn’t ask him what’s wrong. He probably doesn’t even need to; just takes one long, careful look at the redness around his eyes, the dried tear tracks along his face, the way his hands are curled protectively around Jacqueline, holding her against his chest, and nods like it means anything to him, like he understands, like he _knows_.

“I’m gonna talk to him”, he says, voice flat but not unkind, and that’s more comforting than it ought to be.

Hartley doesn’t dignify it with a response.

  


 

Axel quiets down after that. For a while, at least, or maybe it’s just that Hartley avoids him for as long as he can, for as long as it takes for Jacqueline to stop crying whenever he leaves his room, and that’s more than enough time for the anger to subside, replaced instead with an unwilling sort of resignation. Water is wet, the Earth is round, Axel Walker fucks up sometimes.

But then the entire heist goes wrong, _monumentally so_ , and, scratch that. Axel Walker fucks up a _lot_ sometimes.

  


 

“One more step out of line, _Walker_ , and you’re out.” Len says, and he sounds, pun not intended, _cold_. Colder than he’s ever been. And it might be the poor timing, tensions still high in the air, or maybe the fact that every single Rogue takes their rules to _heart_ , no matter what their first opinions on the matter had been — when Axel flinches away, shoulders tense, eyes wide, no one says anything.

Hartley blinks away and it’s like it didn’t even happen.

“Got it, boss man. Won’t happen again.”

 

 

 

He wants to overlook it. Wants to tell himself ‘it’s a one time thing’ and put everything behind him. No one said anything, the others wouldn’t judge him, not given their own predicament, would they?

Hartley wants to think they wouldn’t. And still. He knows he’s not imagining the bruises around Axel’s neck. The split lip and the darkened eye are there, right in his face for anyone to see, but the bruises had been hidden, only flashes glimpsing through when the jacket slipped from his shoulders. Now they’re out in the open, a myriad of purple and green all across his collarbone, maybe even across his shoulders and his back, and Hartley _can’t_ overlook it. Can’t tell himself they’re not finger shaped, or that they _are_. And Axel doesn’t even seem particularly conscious about any of it, chatting off with Shawna as if he’s none the wiser.

But then, he’s always like that, isn’t he? He never seems like he cares about _anything_ , much less about himself.

Shawna, at least, is discreet. Hartley isn’t sure he would’ve managed to.

  


 

He dreams of purple bruising running down his arms’ length. Dreams of unconcerned dismissals, neglect, of white hot rage boiling right under his skin like bombs ready to explode, and wakes up drenched in sweat.

No matter how hard he tries, Hartley can’t go back to sleep.

  


 

The rats notice his unease. Of course they do. Sometimes — most of times — Hartley enjoys being around them more than he enjoys being around other humans, and the feeling seems reciprocated. They scoot closer to his restless body these nights, chirping softly until the comfortable sounds lull him to sleep.

Jacqueline, though — Jacqueline is the only one who stays through the night, eyes wide and ears alert, probably more for his own comfort than for her still being scared. And Mert — oh, Mert. Hartley isn’t sure where he gets all the things he keeps bringing with him to the room — weird trinkets, munched petals, bits of cheese. Hartley even found a mood ring under his bed the other day.

All of it — it’s not ideal, sure, but it’s good.

Yeah.

It’s good.

 

 

 

Hartley notices, like he notices a lot of things he’s not sure he _should_ be noticing about him, that Axel isn’t half as excited about Roy as he is about, basically, everyone else. It’s not that it _shows_ , not exactly, it’s more like… An hesitance, if it can be put like that, to stay on the same room as the Rainbow Raider. An unwillingness to even look in his general direction sometimes, which is glaringly obvious when you’re playing cards and outright _refuses_ to look up. And still, the entire thing still feels as if he’s making things up, as if his mind is playing him tricks — until Mark opens his mouth.

“You got a bone with Roy, brat?”

Axel bares his teeth.

“Mind your own damn business, _Cloudy_.” he hisses before clicking his mouth shut with an annoyed huff and going back to his cards.

But it’s not _his_ reaction that’s interesting — it’s everyone else’s. More pointedly, it’s _Roy’_ s reaction; a flicker of something that flashes so fast through his face, Hartley can’t recognize, shoulders that rose up defensively before the word were even out of Axel’s mouth. He looked ready to bolt.

Unsettling as it is, Hartley tucks that knowledge away for some other time.

  


 

Another heist goes wrong. Not because of Axel this time, he didn’t even participate, but a series of unfortunate events, and, by the end of the week, Hartley’s _tired_. He just wants to tuck himself away for some time, curl under the blanket with his rats and pretend, for a while, that the world outside doesn’t exist.

So, no, he doesn’t _mean_ to slip, doesn’t meant to make everything worse than it already is, but it’s so _easy_ to get in over his head — so easy to pretend that part of it is Axel’s own fault, that he keeps pushing, keeps pulling, and none of it _helps_.

“What is _wrong_ with you?” he asks, biting, a snarl much more than a question, almost an accusation, and Hartley has never felt the urge to wince at his own words the same way he feels it now.

Axel is smiling. He always is, sharp, biting own its own accord, eyes crinkling in the corner in a way that makes him look _maniac_.

“There are many, _many_ things wrong with me, Pipes.”

And Hartley huffs out despite himself, annoyed at Axel, at _everything_ , that he wants to reach out but is unwilling to do so, that he never gets a straight answer, that Axel never leaves him _alone_ , that the frustration at the corner of his mind is still growing and he wants to _scream_. He doesn’t notice Mick interfering, doesn’t see Axel leaving, middle finger up — but the _laugh_ , the laugh he hears. High pitched, mocking, _hollow_ , and he can’t help but to grip tighter onto the book in his hands, knuckles turning white.

 _It’s frustrating_. Axel Walker, himself, _everything_.

 

 

 

It keeps bothering him. He won’t overanalyze _why_ , why it matters so much, why now, but it _does_ , and Hartley would be a fool if he didn’t acknowledge that the itch under his skin has been there for long enough already.

So he’ll wonder. Because maybe, deep down he meant it as a jab, _meant_ for it to hurt even though they’re on the same team, even though he shouldn’t _want_ it to hurt, and Axel just — just took it in stride like every other time, like he always does, like he doesn’t _care_ , and that, like a lot of things, doesn’t settle well with him.

So once more, Hartley will tell himself ‘give him a chance’. And not because maybe Axel’s more than worth the trouble, not because he’s tired of being so defensive all the time, but rather because Mert still keeps bringing too many bits of cheese to his room at night, followed closely by a happy sounding Jacqueline, the both of them smelling like gunpowder and cotton candy.

If that’s Axel’s only way of apologizing, Hartley will take what he can get.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mert and Jacq ~~ueline~~ are two of Cinderella's rats. I'm ~~not~~ sorry :p


End file.
